I was searching through my unpublished entries for something to post today and I found this and added some illustrations. I wrote it way back at the beginning of September when Boyfriend and I first moved to Hamilton.

Boyfriend was being all whiny yesterday about how we never do real-person things like hang out with friends or wake up when it's still morning or eat at the Olive Garden. I was like "I hate pasta and we don't have any friends here yet... but we can wake up early if you want."

Boyfriend: "What time should we get up?"

Me: "I don't know. What time do successful people wake up?"

Boyfriend: "Probably around seven?"

Me: "Then we're getting up at 6:40."

It might have worked out better for me if I didn't get so damn excited about nothing at night. When most people are getting ready for bed, I'm sitting on my couch, vibrating with pent-up energy. I have no idea what I get so excited about, but whatever it is, it's really, really, really exciting!

This problem is especially acute when I know that I have to wake up early. Whenever I have to wake up early, I feel like I'm getting ready to embark on a dangerous adventure. I imagine that this is the same feeling you would get if you were trying to fall asleep the night before your first summit of Mt. Everest. Like you're either going to die or accomplish something amazing.

I try to talk myself down from this hyper-excited state, but it usually only exacerbates the problem. I say to myself "Go to sleep. There is absolutely nothing exciting happening tomorrow. You are probably just going to wake up, crawl downstairs and fall asleep on the couch." But then I feel like I'm trying to trick myself. I think "This is probably just a cover-up for what's really going to happen tomorrow morning... I'm probably going to die. Or win a million dollars!"

Around three or four o'clock, I will usually have exhausted my body's stores of adrenaline and I'll fall asleep instantly. This is when I start having crazy dreams. For some unknown reason, my crazy dreams usually start in an empty parking garage. The parking garage has little or nothing to do with the rest of the dream, but it's always there, like a portal to crazyland, signaling that the rest of the night is going to be full of flying and running and falling and spaceship crashes and Boyfriend is probably going to cheat on me with a robot and then pretend that it didn't happen even though I know it did because he has a glowing green spot on his face since apparently that's what happens when you sleep with robots and then I try to punch him in the face, but my hands are spindly and weak and it turns out that Boyfriend is actually a shapeshifter because suddenly he's a bear and instead of arguing about how he slept with a robot, I'm running away and trying to find Santa Claus because that's the only way to survive a bear attack but it doesn't matter anyway because now I have to fight a gila monster. And suddenly there's salsa music. I get absurdly angry at the music. It feels like it has been playing for hours and I am so sick of it that by the time I wake up and realize that it's actually my alarm clock, I'm ready to fight an army of orcs with my bare hands. My face and pillow are plastered with saliva. My eyes are almost swollen shut because I was sleeping on my face. I'm disoriented and angry.

Obviously this is not the part I was excited about. Actually, I don't even remember what that part was. At that point, all I know is that I'll never be excited about anything again because everything is stupid. My alarm clock is stupid, my pillow is stupid, the sun is stupid, feelings are stupid, grass is stupid, Oprah is stupid, bricks are stupid, birds are stupid - everything is stupid and I hate it.

This feeling usually subsides a little once I get coffee, but on this particular morning, I did not get coffee because Boyfriend was like "Do you want to go for a run?"

Me: "Running is stupid."

Boyfriend: "You don't really think running is stupid."

Me: "Right now I do."

Boyfriend: "Okay, well I'm going."

Me: "Wait! FINE. I'll go."

Boyfriend: "Okay, put on your shoes."

Me: "I'll put on your face."

Boyfriend: "That doesn't make sense."

Me: "You don't make sense."

And then we started talking about Face-Off.

Okay. I now understand why I didn't publish this before. There's no real ending to it. I must have realized this when I wrote it, but for some reason I forgot. I thought "Oh, I'll just draw some pictures, edit a few details and write a nice little closing paragraph!" But I was wrong. It's not that simple.

I can't just be like "And then we went running and it really sucked and I yelled at some cows just because they were there. The End." So I'm going to make up an ending.

After we finished talking about Face-Off, Boyfriend and I headed out the door to go for our run. That's when we noticed the zombies. There was an entire herd of zombies in our yard! We were like "Go away, zombies!" But the zombies were like "NO!" so we had to fight them. Boyfriend went inside and got his assault rifle and I just started punching. And then Boyfriend was like "Get out of the way!" And I dove to the side and he started mowing down zombies and our neighbors didn't even care because they were dead.

Anyway, fighting zombies turned out to be really easy because zombies are slow and stupid and Boyfriend and I are fast and smart. We just shot their knees out and then kicked their heads in. It was really violent.

Anyway, we killed all the zombies and then went for a run and it sucked and I yelled at cows just because they were there.

P.S. I don't know if there is a proper name for a group of zombies, so I just called them a "herd of zombies." But it's probably actually something like a "flight of zombies" or a "kindle of zombies" or a "bantam of zombies" or something. It's almost definitely a bantam of zombies.

UPDATE: I'm officially putting my support behind "zeppelin of zombies" submitted by Going Like 60, even though I hate alliteration. "A zeppelin of zombies" just sounds so natural, especially since I used to get Led Zeppelin and Rob Zombie mixed up. I know. There is nothing even remotely similar or confusing about those two names aside from the tenuous connection between three letter first names and last names starting with Z. I probably shouldn't even admit it publicly, but I just did. I confuse Led Zeppelin and Rob Zombie and that's why I'm supporting the term "a zeppelin of zombies." At the very least, getting that term officially recognized would lend some credibility to my confusion, even if only retroactively.

Since there is no official name for a group of zombies yet (though a few have been suggested) I propose that we act to get the phrase "a zeppelin of zombies"officially recognized.

UPDATE: Shit. "Legion of zombies" has also been suggested and now I don't know which one to choose. Thanks Maggie... way to make something that used to be totally simple not simple anymore. This may have to be settled with a poll.

Best Tiger SeasonFryman was one of the most consistent Tigers I’ve had the pleasure of watching. You could pencil him in at the beginning of the season for a .270, 20, 90 campaign seemingly every year. 1993 was his best Tiger season, though, when he hit .300, with 22 homers, 97 RBI, and an OPS+ of 133.

Travis had a lot of pressure on him as many saw him as the guy replacing Alan Trammell as not only the Detroit shortshop, but possibly the team’s leader of the future. He handled that pressure well before moving to third base and Chris Gomez became the Tiger shortshop of the future…which didn’t last long.

Little Known FactIn 1993, Fryman became the first Tiger since Hoot Evers in 1950 to hit for the cycle. Since then, only Damien Easley and Carlos Guillen have accomplished the feat.

Reason For Being On The ListMy dad wasn’t big into baseball. Therefore, we hardly ever made it to the ballpark together, whether it be in Detroit or a Mud Hens game here in Toledo. Well, the only time I can ever remember just the two of us going to a ballgame together, we were watching the Hens play in what must have been 1990, according to Fryman’s minor league stats. I was 13 years old and at my first ever game (that I recall) when my dad asked me which guy on the field I thought would end up becoming a star with the Tigers. His choice was a skinny centerfielder named Scott Lusader. My pick was a young Travis Fryman. I win, Dad. Hahahahahah…I rule.

Obviously, over time, there were many more reasons for me to enjoy Travis. He was a steady bat, a good glove, and always seemed to be a decent guy. He wasn’t much on personality, but you can’t have everything. I was pretty upset when he ended up traded for a big pile of nothing.

What Happened To Him?On November 18, 1997, Fryman was traded to the Arizona Diamondbacks for Matt Drews, Gabe Alvarez, and Joe Randa. My bad…that was three big piles of nothing. Less than a month later, he was shipped off to the Cleveland Indians with Tom Martin and cash for slugging third baseman, Matt Williams. He stuck around with the Tribe for another five years before retiring due to injury.

In 2008, he became manager of the Class A Mahoning Valley Scrappers. In this past offseason, he was a finalist to be the Indians manager, losing out to Manny Acta. I’m sure he’ll get his chance someday.

Travis has three children named Mason, Branden, and Cole.

Info ripped off of baseball-reference.com and Wikipedia.Pics via Google.

Now 'this' bloke should be in charge of the biggest charity organisation going. He's got the message he's trying to portray down 'pat' ... As for the cat... Well, it's just a drama queen !

Hi Folks,

Only a few more days to go before I can collect my glasses and actually see what I'm looking at ! Doesn't a week go sooooo slow when you're looking forward to something... This is now Saturday and I collect them on Tuesday afternoon wayhayyyy ! In the meantime I received these funnies from my BIL and thought you would also enjoy them...

Lack of water is the trigger of daytime fatigue. Preliminary research indicates that 8-10 glasses of water a day could significantly ease back and joint pain for up to 80% of sufferers.A mere 2% drop in body watercan trigger fuzzy short-term memory, trouble with basic math, and difficulty focusing on the computer screen orDrinking 5 glasses of water daily decreases the risk of colon cancer by 45 %, plus it can slash the risk of breast cancer by 79% and one is 50% less likely to develop bladder cancer.

Who would win in a fight? Gerald Laird's brother or Miguel Cabrera's wife? My money is on Mrs. Miggy Smalls.

Top Story: Left Handed Batman Wanted

The rumors continue to circulate that the Tigers are still looking to add a left handed bat to the lineup. Carlos Guillen is currently the only projected starter that can hit from the left side…and he’ll probably be in traction by May. The latest rumor has Detroit connected to infielder Adam Kennedy, who hit .289, 11, .63 in Oakland last year with a .758 OPS and a 101 OPS+. Kennedy seems to be a perfect fit for a Dave Dombrowski team since not only is he white, but he sucks at hitting, too. He’d fit in great with Don Kelly, Clete Thomas, Adam Everett, and Brandon Inge.

Dave is supposedly only interested in someone that can play defense, too. Oddly enough, the Tigers were linked to aging slugger (and defensively challenged) Jim Thome, but the big man ended up signing with the stupid Twins. Morneau, Mauer, Span, Kubel, and now Thome? Who’s next, Minnesota? Jermaine Dye look interesting to you? Want to bring Joe Crede back for another year? How about trading for Luke Scott? Baggie Dome or no Baggie Dome, we’re not going to win one game against the Twins this year unless someone has some new scouting reports on these guys.

Super-villian agent Scott Boras is trying to get the Tigers or Reds to sign Johnny Damon to a deal. The Rays may be involved, as well. I believe it was also reported that Boras survives solely on the blood of newborn children. Anyway, Damon’s not going to be a Yankee as they convinced Randy Winn to turn to the dark side, leaving Damon out in the cold. He can still hit the ball, but has the arm strength of a four year old.

Earlier in the week, there was a report that we were considering Jim Edmonds, last seen sucking at baseball in 2008. Luckily, by the time I stopped banging my head against the wall, he had signed in Milwaukee. Phew.

If the Tigers are really looking for a left handed bat to help Miguel Cabrera in the lineup, and not just an Adam Kennedy-type player, there are really only a few choices left on the free agent landscape.

Johnny Damon (LF, DH): 36 years old. Hit .282 with 24 homers, 82 RBI, a .854 OPS, and an OPS+ of 126 in 2009. The brother wants to get paid, though.

Carlos Delgado (1B, DH): 38 years old. He only played in 26 games last year due to injury, hitting .298, 4, 23. In 2008, Delgado hit 38 homers with a .871 OPS. If healthy, he’s going to be a bargain for someone.

Mike Jacobs (1B, DH): 29 years old. .228, 19 homers, 61 RBI, .698 OPS, 83 OPS+. He really struggled in the AL last year. Then again, he was a Royal and you can’t count it against him.

That’s about it, barring a trade. If Delgado can pass a physical, my current order of preference would be Damon, Delgado, Branyan. Johnny’s ability to lead off and cause havoc on the basepaths trumps Delgado’s super-strength. I really wanted Thome, though, mainly so we wouldn’t have to face him. I think Justin Verlander’s career ERA would be a half point lower if Thome was never born. I’m starting to hate the Twins almost as much as I do the friggin’ White Sox…

In Other News

-Happy Birthday, Good Sir. Legendary announcer, Ernie Harwell turned 92 this week. Seriously, is there anyone on this planet that can say one bad thing about this wonderful human being? Bless you, Ernie.

-We Dropped Who? Facepalm. Jeff Larish was bumped off of the 40 man roster to make room for Jose Valverde. Meanwhile, Don Kelly remains. What kind of dirty pictures must he have of Dombrowski/Leyland/Ilitch to remain on the team?

Brad Ausmus signed a $850K deal to remain with the Dodgers for 2010 and a $1 million option for 2011. How is Brad Ausmus not in his mid-50’s by now? Was he 14 when he played for us?

Speaking of the Dodgers, they gave my boy Timo Perez a minor league deal. Congrats, Timo! Perez tore up the Mexican League in the offseason playing along side ex-fictional Indian, Jake Taylor. Hat tip to fellow Timo fan, Dan, on this one.

The Yankees are said to be showing interest in Marcus Thames. Really? Marcus and Granderson both on the Yankees? Unfair, Brian Cashman. We are trying to hate you over here.

Jarrod Washburn will probably end up with the Twins or back in Seattle, say the latest reports. I hope his kneecap explodes.

Matt Stairs signed with the Padres. The 40 pounds he’s supposedly dropped will stay in Philadelphia to be served on those nasty cheesesteaks.

Doug Brocail has announced his retirement at the age of 42. Godspeed, forgotten, crappy relief pitcher. Godspeed.

But, Plugs

-JAYRC tries to get us excited for youngster, Ribbie Weinhardt over at The Spotstarters. Sadly, at this point in my life I only get excited for Payday candy bars, Bacardi rum, and lesbian porn.

-Speaking of lesbians, Tiger bull-lesbian pitcher Armando Galarraga is the next pitcher with superpowers to be profiled by Samara over at Roar of the Tigers. If Armando somehow finds his 2008 form this year, we are going to be a lot better than most people think. That’s a big “if”, though.

-Hey, Ian's blogging again over at The Cutoff Man! His first article over there is on applying the Brett Favre rules to the Tigers. Ahh, the irony. A guy that quits blogging only to start right back up is making Favre jokes. I kid, Ian. You know you complete me.

-Noted hater of Tiger fans everywhere, Lynn Henning must have sensed that some Detroit fans were excited about the thought of Johnny Damon coming to town. Don’t worry, as he has been quick to take in dump on that idea. At least he’s stopped calling Curtis Granderson names.

-Jamie Samuelsen says the Tigers can’t rely on Joel Zumaya. In other news, water is wet, Winter is cold, and Jim Leyland smokes cigarettes.

I’m spent. Goodbye, January. I’m glad it’ll be another year before I have to deal with you again.

Well, I checked around all the opticians in the area and have ended up going back to my original opticians where I will be making use of the frames I had, so now they will only be charging £49 for two pairs of glasses - they will reglaze lenses and place them into my frames ...... So much for the assistant telling me that it would be cheaper to buy new frames and lenses hehehehe.... One pair for reading and one pair for distance which is a bit of a pain in the neck ...... The distance ones will be coated with react-to-light lenses which means they will darken if the sun is shining - fat chance of that happening in Scotland, but heigh ho, ya never know hehehe ...

It's gonna be a real nuisance having to change my glasses when I have to read anything but I was determined not to be held to ransom and have to pay out nearly three hundred pounds for two pairs just to have the facility of the varifocal lens whereby I could read with both ... So , if you are visiting the land of the Tartan in the near future and happen to come across an ancient and flustered looking woman who is struggling between two pairs of glasses which she has hung around her neck you will know it's me - just give me a shout and we can meet up and go for a coffee...

I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed that my little cataracts will grow and become big cataracts in the not too distant future then I can ' swank' real sunglasses and not ones which have tinted react-to-light lenses.... Just think, I've had to wear eyeglasses for nearly forty years ( they have for all that time been the first thing I put on in the morning and the last thing I take off at night ) and ' now ' in the relatively near future I won't need to ...... FANTASTICO !

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I received this next story in email form and it was sent to me as true , whether it is or isn't I can't be sure - but either way it's a great story . They do say that God works in mysterious ways ...... so you never know .

The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, they arrived in early October - excited about their opportunities. When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed a lot of work. They set a goal to have everything down in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve. They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls and painting etc. On December 18th they were on schedule and just about finished.

On December 19th a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and it lasted for two days. On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit. Beginning about head high. The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service he headed home. On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stepped in. One of the items was a beautiful old crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colours and a cross embroidered right in the centre. It was the right size to cover the hole in the front wall.

He bought it and headed back to the church. By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch a bus - she missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later. She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor . While he got a ladder, hangers etc to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area. He noticed the woman walking down the centre aisle - her face was like a sheet. "Pastor" she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?" The pastor explained, the woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there.. They were - these were the initials of the woman and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before in Austria.

The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten "The Tablecloth". The woman explained that before the ware she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to prison and she never saw her husband or her home again. The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth but she made the pastor keep it for the church and insisted on driving her home. That was the least he could do. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job. What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirits were great. At the end of the service, the Pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return.

One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving. The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when They lived in Austria before the war and how Could there be two tablecloths so much alike? He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years between.

The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier. He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.

Submitted by Pastor Rob Reid, Brooklyn N.Y...... God does indeed work in mysterious ways. Lovely story isn't it? Is it true ??

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I found this recently and it appealed to me...Part of the wonder of the festive season is that it can be found in the smallest of things and in the humblest of people. I particularly like these lines by Eva K. Logue.

Best Tiger SeasonBeing a light-hitting utility player and specializing in defense for most of his career, it’s hard to figure out a “best” season for Brookens. But I’m going to go with 1980 over 1987 for Tommy. He hit .275 in his first full MLB season, with 10 homers and 66 RBI. His .734 OPS was the highest of his career, and he also hit 25 doubles and 9 triples in 151 games.

Little Known FactTom’s twin brother, Tim, and his cousin, Ike, were also ballplayers. Tim was drafted in 1975 by Texas, and was later traded to Detroit. He never played in the majors. Ike pitched for Detroit in 1975.Reason For Being On The ListTommy Brookens was the first baseball player that made me think about defense as a young kid. Much like most fat, untalented, slob children, I was put at catcher in hopes that I’d block a few balls and not hurt the team in the field. But seeing Tom dive all over the place and make, to my 8 year old eyes, amazing catches, I decided to work hard on playing defense, practicing every day in my back yard. I actually turned into a decent fielding first and third baseman over time. I give credit for that to watching Tom.

He was a lot like Brandon Inge is today in the field. He made his share of errors (leading the AL in ’80 and ’85), but many of them were because he was covering so much ground out there and getting to balls that most people wouldn’t. He played 1065 games at third, 162 at second, and 119 at shortstop over his career. He even caught five innings in a memorable game in 1985.

His finest game as a pro was on 8/20/80 against Milwaukee where he went 5-5 with a triple and home run. Tommy also started a triple play in that game. I doubt anyone else in baseball history has ever had a game like that.

Oh, and he had the coolest mustache in baseball history. Eat crap, Rollie Fingers.

What Happened To Him?On 3/23/89, Brookens was traded to the New York Yankees for forgettable pitcher, Charles Hudson. (Why do we trade everyone to New York?) After 66 games there, he signed as a free agent with the Cleveland Racist Logos, playing in 64 more games before retiring after the 1990 season.

In 2005 and 2006, Tom was the manager of the Oneonta Tigers, followed in 2007 by managing the West Michigan Whitecaps, both A ball Tiger teams. He led the Whitecaps to the championship that season, earning a promotion to the AA Erie SeaWolves in 2008. This season, he’ll be replacing Andy Van Slyke as the first base coach of the Tigers.

And he still has that sweet mustache.

Info ripped off of baseball-reference.com and Wikipedia.Pics via Google.

I haven't posted in a couple days because I'm too sad to be funny. My pet rat, Isabelle, passed away last night after a heartbreaking struggle with a brain tumor and multiple strokes. She had been completely unable to move all day and I was holding her to my chest to comfort her. I started to cry and my poor little paralyzed rat used her last bit of strength to reach out her paw and grasp my hand. It was the last time she was able to move on her own.

I know that many won't understand my heavy grief over losing a rat. Rats don't have the most glamorous reputation, and it is easy to think of such a small animal as being worth less than a dog or a cat. But I loved Isabelle every bit as much as I've ever loved a dog. She was my constant companion from the day I adopted her and her sister, Dora. She was so intelligent and affectionate. She was always excited to see me and would run to the front of her cage every time I walked by. She would come to her name when I called her. She loved to sit on my lap and give me rat-manicures, and she liked riding in my sweatshirt pocket when I went to the grocery store or when I was just sitting on the couch. She was always docile and sweet - she never bit, even when the vet had to poke all sorts of needles into her in her final days. Isabelle was my "ambassador rat." She made many people into rat lovers - even people who used to be fearful of rats! It's hard to be afraid of something when it's wiggling with excitement and licking you.

Isabelle had a wonderful life full of love, good food and playtime. In the end, we did everything we could for her and I take comfort in that. Still, it's not easy to see the empty spot where she always used to sleep and I had a little breakdown today when I was making food for our remaining rats. I made too much because I was still counting Isabelle, and when I realized it, things really hit home a little bit. She's really gone.

Rest in peace, my little monster-face.

If you are opposed to sappy pet memorials, I advise you skip this next part. I put this up here because it helps me to have something like this to remember her by, and I like the idea of sharing a little bit of her with the world.

This is Isabelle:

Thank you for reading.

Update: Thank you all for your wonderful comments. I have gotten nothing but understanding and empathy, which warms my heart and completely restores my faith in the internet.

Ruby, your comment really touched me. I remember being your age and losing my rat, Cedar. I loved Cedar with every fiber of my being and when she passed, I thought I would never be able to love another pet the way I loved her. 15 years later, I still miss her terribly but I want you to know that I was able to love all the pets that came after Cedar just as much. Love is wonderful in that it can never be wasted or used up. We can never replace the people or animals we have loved, but the love we feel for them can be expanded. I like to think of love as being stretchy. It is easy to feel guilty when you start to love a new pet - like somehow that means you love your old friend less. But when you think of love as being stretchy and able to expand, you can see that there will always be room for everything. You can love as much as you want.

I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you, and I understand. No matter how much this hurts, you're not alone.

Career Leaderboard14 time All Star13 time Gold Glove Winner7 time Silver Slugger Winner1999 AL MVP2003 NLCS MVP1st all-time in games caught

Best Tiger SeasonPudge’s first year as a Tiger, 2004, was his best. He was outstanding, hitting .334 with 19 homers, 86 RBI, an OPS of .893, and an OPS+ of 136. That would be his only year as a Tiger with an OPS+ over 100. It was also his last season as a true offensive threat at the plate as his numbers have tumbled in every season since.

Little Known FactIn 2004, Pudge became the first Tiger to win a Gold Glove since the immoral Gary Pettis did so in 1989.

Reason For Being On The ListIvan Rodriguez is on this list simply because without him signing with the team in 2004, none of the magic of 2006 would have been possible. There probably wouldn’t have been any Magglio Ordonez, Kenny Rogers, or other big free agents coming here. Sure, Fernando Vina started the trend of the Tigers signing free agents, but it was Pudge that made it seem okay for good ballplayers to come to Detroit again. His fire and leadership on the field helped to make the Tigers into winners again and it’s something I’ll never forget, even if he did come off as a sort of selfish player towards the end in ’08.

What Happened To Him?Pudge has turned into sort of a “hired gun” since his departure from Detroit. He was traded to the Yankees for Tiger legend, Kyle Farnsworth, in 2008. After playing miserably in New York, he spent part of 2009 with the Astros before being traded back to his original team, the Rangers.

On December 11th, I-Rod signed a two year, $6 million deal with the Washington Nationals, for some reason. It must be about padding stats instead of winning ballgames for Rodriguez at this point in his career. I’m not sure why, though.

Though I stated in my last DNR 25 post that Jack Morris might have the best chances of anyone on the list as a Hall of Famer, I overlooked Rodriguez, who is a certain lock for the Hall unless questions about possible steroid use, alleged by Jose Canseco, keep him out. Nonetheless, Pudge is up there with Johnny Bench, Yogi Berra, and Carlton Fisk as one of the greatest catchers in baseball history. It was nice to have him in Detroit for a while.

Rodriguez has three kids, Ivan Derrek, Amanda Christine, and Ivanna Sofia with his ex-wife, whom he divorced in 2006. Pudge remarried in 2007. I hope he got a prenup. Harf…

Info ripped off of baseball-reference.com and Wikipedia.Pics via Google.

I just found out that I'm pretty much an expert at making advertisements. I saw an ad for Taco Bell and I was like "That ad doesn't make me want to buy tacos at all. I could do way better than that."

And Boyfriend was all "Tacos don't really need advertisements. They're tacos. They pretty much advertise themselves."

Me: "Yeah, but what if you are trying to break into the taco market and you have to compete with an established brand, like Taco Bell? You'd need to advertise and let consumers know that you are there and you are at least as competent at making tacos as Taco Bell."

Boyfriend: "Yeah."

Me: "And that's where I come in!"

Boyfriend: "That's where you come in and do what?"

Me: "Advertise the shit out of the new tacos!"

Boyfriend: "And how are you planning to do that?"

Me: "Easy. I'll show you."

So then I drew this to demonstrate how I would advertise tacos:

If you are the owner of an up-and-coming taco business, I made this for you. You're welcome. Taco Bell should've thought of hiring me, but they didn't, so the advantage is all yours.

And my expertise is not limited to tacos!

Example 1.) This is how I would sell pants:

If you are told that you are on fire and then you find out that it was just a joke and no, you aren't actually on fire, you'll be so thankful to be alive that you'll pretty much be willing to buy anything.

Example 2.) This is how I would sell insurance:

This advertisement could work for almost anything, but I chose Liberty Mutual because it was the first thing I thought of. Which probably means they don't need better advertising. And I just realized that I should have used a bank as my example because then the catchphrase "it makes a lot more sense than this picture" would have the added benefit of being a pun.

Example 3.) And this is how I would sell dog food:

People will remember an ad like that. Every dog food brand ever makes commercials of adorable puppies frolicking in grass or mischievously unrolling toilet paper all over the house. I bet none of them have ever dared to tell you that they'd turn your dog into a dragon. Just imagine, a couple is in the grocery store, trying to decide what kind of dog food to buy, and they're like "well, they're all pretty much the same - WAIT! Is that PURINA? Doesn't that stuff turn your dog into a dragon? AWESOME! I'm buying that." You jut got a new customer.

If you want people to buy your shit, I'm the person to call. And if you contact me soon, you'll probably be able to scam me into giving you a radical deal because I have been so busy discovering my talents that I haven't had time to do the proper research and I don't have any idea how much to charge for my services. If you contact me with an offer within the next 24 hours, I'll throw in a free piece of cake. That's right... cake. Absolutely fucking free.

What are you waiting for? Email me at ickybana5@hotmail.com. I know it sounds unprofessional, but that's the email address I've had since I was 14 and I'm not about to change it to accommodate my needs as an adult. I have some hardcore loyalty to that email address... just like the loyalty I'm going to try to build between you and your customers! ZING! It's like I was born to do this.

Did you know that the man known as William Wallace was a real true hero and not just a tale told by people with great imaginations - The film "Braveheart" (1995) "Inimă neînfricată" - în româneşte / romanian is the partly historical, partly fictional hollywoodian (for example, the part where Wallace has sex with the queen is FALSE! That never happened in reality. Those scenes were put there for audience purposes only. We all know that "Sex sells". So that's why the producers invented those sex scenes.. It's great pity as it puts other parts of the film in doubt .... It was and is a 'great and true' story and I must admit that it makes me proud of my country and have hopes that even after all this time we will someday win back our "FREEDOM "...

William Wallace was a Scottish common man who fights for his country's freedom from English rule around the end of the 13th century. He was a Scottish hero who leads an uprising against the cruel English ruler Edward 'Longshanks', who wishes to inherit the crown of Scotland for himself. When he was a young boy, William Wallace's father and brother, along with many others, lost their lives trying to free Scotland. Once he loses another of his loved ones, William Wallace begins his long quest to make Scotland free once and for all, along with the assistance of Robert the Bruce.

The movie begins in the small town of Elderslie, Scotland. William lives with his father, Malcolm and elder brother John. William's father and brother are called to a meeting a few miles from their home where they find the entire nobility of Scotland hanging. Malcolm and John then go to a battle between the English and their clan, both die tragically. At the funeral William meets his uncle Argyle who fought in the battle with Malcolm and his father. He takes him away to live with him. The scene then cuts to an adult William on his horse. William later runs into a girl he knew before he went to live with Argyle, her name, Murron, we discover that 'Lords' have the right to sleep with brides on their wedding night, so William marries Murron in secret. Murron is then assaulted by a English guard, the guard is killed by William, a fight ensues, and eventually Murron is killed by the lord. This enrages Wallace who then build himself a fine army entering city's and killing all Englishman within.

Wallace prepares to move on to Stirling where he prepared for his greatest battle yet, in the forest he realizes that he must find a way to beat the heavy cavalry from the ground, he decided to create spears twice as long as men. These were used in the battle to kill the entire heavy cavalry raised at the last minute to kill the on coming horses. Eventually Wallace reaches York, the most important military city he gains control. Williams final battle at Falkirk ends in his betrayal by two nobles, whom he later kills.

William is betrayed by the leper father of Robert the Bruce, is captured and refuses to bow down as a loyal subject of the king Edward I, Longshanks. Therefore, instead of mere beheading William Wallace is subject to being Hung, hung within an inch of death. Drawn, being stretched by his ankles and wrists and then having his insides shown to him before he died. William Wallace died crying "FREEDOM!" Then Quartered, he was beheaded and his head was put on the London Bridge his body was torn into for pieces one sent to each corner of Britain as a warning to the citizens. After Wallace's death we see Robert the Bruce led the battle of Bannockburn the last battle for Scotland's freedom.

What a man ...... What a story ...... What a history !

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~Now I know I'm going from the sublime to the ridiculous here but I couldn't resist this one - I've just had a decco at lom's blog and found that I am an elephant ??? Well not really, but I just 'had' to do another 'blogthing' - so here's the result ... Elephants are my favourite animal so I don't really mind !

You Are an Elephant

You are strong and wise. You have a lot of power and a lot of endurance.

You are an affectionate and sensitive person. It's important that you take care of those you love.

You have a soft spot in your heart for anyone or anything that's helpless. You are very compassionate.

You try to live a good life and be a good person. You believe that it's important to be able to live with your decisions.

Boyfriend and I were sitting innocently in our living room, watching a movie. Then I heard a sound like grinding metal coming from outside and I was like "Do you hear that?"

Boyfriend: "Hear what?"

Me: "It sounds like robots having sex."

Boyfriend: "I'm not familiar with that sound."

Me: "Listen! It sounds like someone swinging on a rusty swing, only they're swinging really, really furiously. Like I don't know if it would be possible to swing that furiously. It's way more likely that it's robots having sex in our yard."

Boyfriend: "You should go check."

Me: "I don't want to go out there! I have no idea what could be making a sound like that. It's probably dangerous."

Me: "NO! There's another sound. A different sound. HOW CAN YOU NOT HEAR THAT???"

Boyfriend: "Because I'm not crazy?"

My curiosity and the urge to prove that I wasn't actually insane finally outweighed my fear of what might be on the other side of the door. I put on my hero-face and went outside.

I don't know if you've ever seen a dog battling a goose/monster, but that is what I saw when I opened the door. It was like The Gladiator out there, only with way more violence and robot-sex sound effects. At first, I was like "No Rustle! BAD DOG!" because I didn't want him to kill the goose. I chased him to the other side of the yard and by the time I turned around, the goose was inside my house. I heard Boyfriend yell "OH SHIT!!!"

I ran inside to find the goose chasing Boyfriend around our living room. Boyfriend was throwing things at it and yelling "GET IT AWAY!! GET IT AWAY!!! OH MY GOD!! WHAT'S IT DOING??!!" Everything was chaos. I started throwing things too and yelling "WHAT DO I DO?? WHAT DO I DO?!!"

Boyfriend: "IT'S TRYING TO BITE ME!! WHY IS THERE A GOOSE IN OUR HOUSE, ALLIE??? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!"

Me: "IDON'TKNOWIDON'TKNOWIDON'TKNOW!! GET IT! STAB IT!!!"

Boyfriend: "STAB IT?? HOW??"

At this point, the goose turned it's reptilian gaze upon me. Everything was still for a moment.

Boyfriend: "What's it doing?"

Me: "Oh God... I don't know... It's watching me..."

The next ten minutes were almost exactly like the kitchen scene in Jurassic Park - Boyfriend and I running around chaotically, trying to hide - the goose pursuing us like a bloodthirsty velociraptor.

If you have never been attacked by a goose, you may be wondering what is so scary about geese. Allow me to illustrate with a story from my childhood:

If you fuck with geese, they will bite you in the face.

Luckily, Boyfriend and I have blankets hung over all of our doorways to conserve heat and we were eventually able to trap the goose in our kitchen behind one of the blankets. At this point, I got out the video camera because there was a feral goose-raptor in my kitchen, you guys.

After it made several charges at me, I decided that antagonizing the goose was probably not wise, so I retreated to the living room. The backlighting in the kitchen cast a sharp silhouette of the creature on the bed sheet hung over the door. I could see it moving closer.

The sheet bulged outward.

It was escaping.

We fled up the stairs to the safety of our room. We could hear it pecking the ground outside our door.

We were trapped.

From our room, we called Fish and Game and they were like "Is it a wild goose?" And we were like "It's whatever kind of goose acts like a velociraptor..." and they were all "We don't know how to help you. Maybe you can trap it under a blanket and take it outside?" And we were like "Yeah, whatever."

After we got off the phone, Boyfriend said "So what are we really going to do with it?"

Me: "I don't know. Maybe we can trap it in the basement?"

Boyfriend: "That's a terrible idea. Do you really want that thing living in our basement?"

Me: "No. I don't know why I said that."

We decided that trapping it under a blanket was probably our only option. Unless we wanted to live in our room forever.

After a dramatic struggle, we were able to trap the goose, put it in the back of Boyfriend's car, drive it to a nearby duck pond and release it into its natural habitat, even though I'm pretty sure I'm wrong about that and its natural habitat is actually the Jurassic period and it's probably going to murder those poor ducks and then lurk under the surface of the murky pond, just waiting for hapless children to get too close to the edge of the water.

This photo makes me want to shout Garde-loo !

Hi Folks,

The photograph sent to me in an email appealed to my weird sense of humour and also reminded me of a shout which was used a lot by us as children when we skidded down the hills and valleys of the fields at the rear of our childhood home . The 'yell' was as stated ..... GARDE-LOOOO !! It was shouted as we let fly down the hill of snow and ice... This was a term used apparently certuries ago too as explained in the following info - found thanks to the world wide web.......

Modern toilet invented by watchmaker

It is often incorrectly quoted that the toilet was invented by a Mr Thomas Crapper in the 18th century. Actually, simple toilets have been used since Babylonian times. In 1596, John Harrington invented an indoor water closet for Queen Elizabeth I. But Harrington then published a book with tasteless puns about his own invention. The toilet then dropped into obscurity for nearly 200 years. In 1775, London watchmaker Alexander Cummings patented the forerunner of today's toilet. the standard flush toilet.

There was a Mr Crapper around at the time - he happened to be a successful plumber, appropriately.

The British word for toilet, "loo", derives from the French "garde a l'eau!" In medieval Europe people had little conception of hygene and threw the contents of their chamber pots out the window into the street below. In France the practice was preceded by "garde a l'eau!" ("watch out for the water!"). In England, this phrase was Anglicised, first to "gardy-loo!", then just "loo", and eventually came to mean the toilet/lavatory itself. The American word for toilet, "john", is called after the John Harington mentioned above.

In 1913, the Russian airline became the first to feature a toilet on board. The movie Psycho is said to be the first film to show a toilet being flushed. Toilet paper is thought to have been introduced in China at around 850, long before the advent of the toilet as we know it.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

This has nothing to do with a Loo as such - I just thought it very funny and very typical of a Scottish joke ...... Enjoy !

Sister Senga and Sister Helen, are travelling from Scotland through Europe in their car. They get to Transylvania and are stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny little Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses through the windshield ..."Aw naw!" shouts Sister Senga. "Whit are we gonnae dae?""Turn the windae wipers oan. That will get rid of the abomination" says Sister Helen. Sister Senga switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns. "Whit ahm a' gonnae dae noo?" she shouts. "Switch on the windae washirs.... I filled it up with Holy Water at the Vatican !" says Sister Helen. Sister Senga turns on the windae washirs. Dracula screams as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns. "It did'nae wurk, whit'll a dae?" shouts Sister Senga."Show him your cross!" says Sister Helen. "Aye, that's whit tae dae." says Sister Senga. She opens the window and shouts......."Get tae Hell aff the bleedin' car ya wee vampire beggar" ...

Unlike Miguel Cabrera, I am not doing well dealing with my drinking problem. But Miguel’s a good boy now. See? Whatever. Good for him. What do you say we get on with this, shall we, kids?

Top Story: Moneyball…No, Not the Billy Beane Stuff

Much like the banking industry, in baseball, no matter how good or bad you are at your job, there’s always a decent chance that you’ll get a raise and/or bonus. The Tigers are no exception to this rule as they avoided arbitration and gave raises to .220 hitting Suns fan, Gerald Laird, dentist/elf look-a-like, Zach Miner, and possible Frankenstein creature, Bobby Seay. The only guy left on the arbitration list for Detroit is the ace of the pitching staff, Justin Verlander.

Personally, I was hoping that this offseason would see Dave Dombrowski try to work out a long-term deal with Verlander after his amazing 2009 campaign. I love me some JV. Even my personal BFF, Jamie Samuelsen, had similar thoughts. (Yes, it scared me, too.) Yet after reading these articles over at Detroit4Lyfe and The Cutoff Man, I’ve started thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to not hurry into anything and wait it out for a while. Good job, guys. Maybe one day, I’ll think out an article before writing it. Better yet, maybe one day I’ll check my punctuation and grammar so the guys at Bleacher Report will quit yelling at me. Doubt it, though.

No matter what they do, 2010’s deal with Justin still needs to be done. Verlander has asked for $9.5 million while Double D has countered with a laughable $6.9 million…a week after giving Jose Valverde $7 million per year. That Dombrowski…he has balls. I’m sure they’ll settle somewhere in the $8 million dollar range pretty soon. But the more I think about it, I’d like to be in the room while they try and hammer things out. This is how I picture things going…

DAVE DOMBROWSKI: $9.5 million is a lot of money, Justin. I think a bit less than $7 million is more than fair for this year. Don’t you?JUSTIN VERLANDER: (gives menacing stare)

DOMBROWSKI: Sure, sure. I can see your point there. You did finish third in the Cy Young voting. How about $7.3 million, Justin?

Go with #1. It is best for everyone. Lets not fight…this isn’t Bless You Boys. Ha, just kidding, Kurt. Don’t ban me.

In Other News

-No Way, Jose: The reaction to the signing of Jose Valverde to be the Tiger closer has been nothing short of fascinating to me. Most casual Tiger fans I’ve talked to seem to be happy about it. The mainstream media, for the most part, has applauded the deal. Yet most of the Tiger bloggers out there, who I generally like and respect, are still up in arms over it. Check them out, if you haven’t, and see what I mean. People are pissed. You’ve even got lots of them snipping at each other mixed in with a lot of head scratching over what Mr. Dombrowski is thinking and/or smoking.

Me? I like the deal. Like I said last week, Valverde’s the best closer we’ve had since Henneman, if he pitches like the last three seasons in the NL. And unlike many of my Tiger blogging brothers and sisters, I think the price was great for someone like Valverde, even if we were probably bidding against ourselves. It’s not my pizza money paying for him. But I’ve come up with another conspiracy theory on the deal that I haven’t seen written anywhere else just yet.

Maybe this deal is more about 2011 than 2010. Think about it. If you believe Dombrowski, we’re not going to be adding another big bat to the lineup. Currently, Miguel Cabrera has about as much support behind him as a bowling ball does sitting on a wet paper towel. So, we’re not going to be very competitive compared to your Yankees, Red Sox, Angels, etc, despite what Dave says. The Central might be doable, but not much more…too many teams are better than us.

Anyhoo, after 2010, the abortions of contracts given out to Bondo, Nate, Dontrelle, and probably Magglio go bye-bye. Thus, Dave is free to spend for 2011, Austin Jackson and Scott Sizemore have a year under their belts (along with all the young pitchers), and the Tigers are a new team.

What does any of this have to do with Valverde? Glad you asked. Jose will still be under control for 2011 and a $9 million option on 2012. That is still way cheaper than the other top closers in baseball are being paid. (And Kerry Wood.) It’s just one less thing Dave has to worry about in building the competitive 2011 team…he just got it out of the way now while the price was low.

Or perhaps, I’m thinking too hard and Dave’s trying to make people forget that Granderson and Polonco will be facing each other in the World Series next year.

-Damage Control: The Tiger Winter Caravans (or whatever) are making their trips around the Detroit/Toledo areas lately. Jim Leyland has been doing his best to answer questions from the media and fans about the team with his usual charm. I’ll let you check out the big Detroit sites for details on that. But a couple of things have stood out to me that The Marlboro Man has said this week that would make me pull the hairs out of my head if I could grow them.

First, he says he hasn’t even written out a batting order yet and isn’t sure who is going to be batting where. No clue, says the skipper. Does this frighten anyone else that our manager has no plan yet? I’m sure he wants to get a look at Jackson and Sizemore this spring and possibly pray that Dave finds him a left-handed bat, but come on. Nothing, Jim? I'm sure you're lying, but let a brother help you out, then. How about this?

Was that so hard? I kinda like the idea of Raburn leading off. The more he plays, the better he seems to hit. And seriously, what’s with all the talk of us having no leadoff hitter? We didn't last year, either. Everyone’s hero hit .240 leading off and we barely missed the bloody playoffs. I love Curtis, too, but the man wasn’t exactly Rickey Henderson. Give Raburn a chance. I like laughing at him when he sticks his tongue out when he’s concentrating really hard.

The other thing that Jim said that annoyed me was when he was asked about adding another left-handed hitter. Jim replied, “We’d like to have one, but they’re not easy to find.” Hank Blalock, Russell Branyan, Jim Edmonds, Carlos Delgado, Orlando Hudson, Garret Anderson, Johnny Damon, Jason Giambi, Jim Thome, and others are apparently missing! Someone please call “America’s Most Wanted” immediately if you have any information on there whereabouts! (Is that still on?) Thank goodness the Royals somehow found Rick Ankiel lost and wandering the woods along the Missouri border…

Are any of those guys a long-term answer? No. But with the exception of Hudson or Damon, any of them could be a cheap one year solution until the magical 2011 season arrives, especially when you take into account the fact that Carlos Guillen can snap a bone in his leg on any given day stepping out of the shower. Otherwise, prepare for another season of Clete Thomas being the big lefty bat on the team.

Chad Durbin avoided arbitration with the Phillies by signing a $2.125 million deal. Not bad for a guy who’s career looked to be over a few years ago. Here’s to hoping that the Phils bring Matty Stairs back for another year, too. Apparently, he’s dropped something like 40 pounds. For Stairs, that may put him at around 280.

Colby Lewis is still alive and signed a two year deal with the Rangers after pitching well in Japan. Seth Greisinger must be pissed.

Cody Ross and the Marlins can’t agree on a figure and look to be heading to arbitration over a difference of only $250,000. Anyone under the age of 85 that doesn’t live in Miami should be shot for rooting for the friggin’ Marlins. Cheap bastards. Hanley Ramirez will be a Yankee ten minutes after Derek Jeter retires.

Milwaukee is showing a lot of interest in Jarrod Washburn. Bummer. I was hoping he’d be back in the AL this year and we’d get to see him a couple times…pad the stats a bit.

But, Plugs

-This week, Samara took a look at the supposed superpowers of Our Hero, Nate Robertson. It seems those silly glasses aren’t just to correct that squiggle eye of his, but they in fact allow him to shoot beams of power. Fun stuff, as always from Roar of the Tigers. If anyone from the Tigers has somehow stumbled onto my dumb blog, please give Sam a job writing Tiger kids books or something creative. Her illustrations are amazing, despite her annoying habit of also supporting the Red Sox.

-Blake takes a look at dead white guys. By the time he finishes his list ranking the all the Tiger ballclubs over the years and I finish my DNR 25, Austin Jackson’s going to be 30 years old…and probably playing for New York.

-Kurt looks at the enigma that is Phil Coke and how he fits into the team this year. I continue to hold out hope that the Tigers trade for Jack Wilson so I can refer to them as Jack & Coke. (groan, boo, hiss)

-Lynn Henning at the Detroit News continues to disagree with every consensus opinion taken by Tiger bloggers in the offseason. This one’s about the offense. But check any of them and imagine Tiger bloggers screaming and spitting at their computer screens. Well, except me. But I'm weird.

That’s all for now. Be good to each other. And as for you, Miguel? Joel Zumaya thinks you’re a wussy.